Page 29 of Viking Ink

Rhys stared at me for a moment before silent tears started to roll down his face. “I’m sorry, Simon. I was scared. The nightmare felt real.” His voice dropped lower. “I think I had—an accident.”

I could see the blush on his face, and the look of silent mortification. That wouldn’t do. I had to let him see that there was nothing wrong, and that I wasn’t angry with him.

“Okay, baby bear, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to run you a bath and strip you out of those clothes and put them in the wash along with the bed clothes. Once you’re dry and clean, we can curl up on the sofa and talk. How does that sound?” I wouldn’t do anything, not until I had Rhys’s verbal consent.

“Please?” Rhys looked up at me, his eyes clearing a little. “You’re really here. I thought you’d left.”

I let out a soft sigh. “I did. I went and saw Mitch and Cal. They gave it to me with both barrels. Mitch read me the riot act.”

Rhys reached out and patted my hand. “I’m sorry, Simon.”

“Hey, baby bear, enough of that. I’m going to go run a bath. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” I was slipping easily into my Daddy side. Being close to Rhys drew it out as naturally as the sun rising.

I’d tried ignoring how Rhys made me feel, and that hadn’t worked for either of us. Now it was time to show Rhys what having a Daddy was like.

Chapter 10

RHYS

Simon was running a bath for me. The terror of the nightmare was finally slipping from me, the last tendrils of fear had gone, and Simon had come back. I couldn’t believe it. Shifting in the bed, embarrassment surged through me. The terror of my dreams had caused me to wet myself. My face flamed with mortification, and I wanted to crawl away and hide, but Simon hadn’t acted disgusted or teased me. Instead, he’d offered to take care of me.

Curled up in bed, I could hear the water running to fill the tub. Then Simon was back, stripped out of his jeans and wearing soft looking workout pants and a T-shirt.

“All right, let’s get you into a warm bath.” Simon slipped back the covers then held out a hand. “Your bath awaits, young sir.” He gave a little swooping bow, which I returned as well as I could sitting on the bed. “Take my hand baby bear. You might still be a bit wobbly from the bad dreams.” His voice was warm, and its soft almost-rumble made me feel better, because he was here, and talking to me.

In the bathroom, I saw that he’d gotten out a big bath sheet and clean pyjama pants, and a T-shirt sat folded neatly on the vanity. The room smelled like a fruit cocktail. He must have used the bubble bath I’d gotten the other day but not used till now. The tub was nearly overflowing with bubbles, and I was pretty sure I could make out the yellow shape of Simon’s rubber duck floating amongst the bubbles.

“Do you want me to leave you to it, or help you? You can change your mind or say stop if something makes you feel uncomfortable.” Simon had not stepped into the bathroom, but stood in the doorway, as if waiting for my permission—which I supposed he was.

Did I want Simon helping me? The answer to that was pretty clear in my head—I did—but what had changed since our not-argument earlier?

“I want you to help me. But what’s changed? You sounded so cross earlier that I thought I’d done something wrong.” I needed answers, even in my tired, emotional state, as to why he’d reacted so badly to my gentle teasing. I hadn’t expected him to get angry. It hurt, and I didn’t like not understanding why.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. I—I want to make that up to you, to explain.”

Narrowing my eyes, I looked at him. “So this is sympathy. ‘I made Rhys feel bad, so a bubble bath will get me in the good books’ kind of thing.” I crossed my arms, but trying to look stern while standing in my sleep rumpled, pee-stained clothing probably didn’t come off all that well.

But Simon looked suitably chastised, and shook his head. “I really do feel bad about how I acted, but this isn’t that. You asked earlier what I had said. I was scared, Rhys. Scared of taking advantage of you, of reading more into us then there was.” Simon came further into the bathroom, standing directly in front of me.

I had to look up to keep eye contact. In this small bathroom the size difference between the two of us was more than noticeable.

He took a deep breath. “What I said was, ‘If you were my boy, you’d have a lot of rules to follow.’” Simon’s voice had dipped down a register—deeper, huskier, and downright sexy.

“Oh.” My brain had officially shorted out. Was he saying what I thought he was saying, or was this me reading too much into a statement?

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?” Simon’s eyes twinkled.

“Do you want me to be your boy?” I was shocked at how I just blurted it out, and the instant the words were out of my mouth I wanted to slap my hand over my mouth, but the broad smile Simon gave me banished those thoughts.

“Of course I do. But bath first, then we can talk.” Simon stepped back. “Now, I can go and strip the bed and let you soak, or….”

“Or, you could help me bathe and keep me company,” I said quickly, Sweet Jesus, who had taken over my brain?

“Yeah, I could do that. But I’m not going to do anything you’re not ready for or comfortable with.” Simon’s voice brooked no argument. It was, I was realizing, what Mitch had jokingly referred to as his Daddy tone.

I lifted my chin and held Simon’s gaze. “I know sometimes I’m little, and yeah, I know what that means.”

“You and Mitch talk,” Simon said, smiling like he’d heard that before.

---